


the other side

by tonystarktrash



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, F/M, Parent Pepper Potts, Pepper Potts Feels, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Reunions, Tony Stark Has A Heart, i don't want to tag too much bc i don't want to give it away ya feel, it's the DRESSSS, this is like... i don't want to say angsty because it's not it's just...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 08:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30086520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarktrash/pseuds/tonystarktrash
Summary: Speaking of Tony… Pepper’s eyes narrow as she surveys the ballroom, searching for her husband. She had left him —wherehad she left him? Over by the piano, surely that’s him there, she can tell by the set of the man’s shoulders, the way he tips his head back when he laughs. But that can’t be right, Tony’s hair hasn’t been that dark in years.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 43





	the other side

She’s forgotten to put on deodorant. Again. The realization had struck her as she leaned up against the bar, her forearms resting on the counter as she hungrily watched her vodka martini being prepared by a very capable bartender. In that moment, as she had let her thoughts drift with the music echoing around the ballroom, she had recalled how she had easily stepped into her backless blue dress, which had amazed her, because she hadn’t worn it in over twenty years. She had pulled on her heels and hurried out of their bedroom, rolling her eyes at the sound of Tony’s voice echoing through the house. He had been whining from the foyer for at least ten minutes, going on about how they were going to be late to a party being thrown in their honor, and that everyone would unfairly assume that he was the reason for their tardiness. In her haste to shut her husband up, a thorough application of deodorant had entirely slipped her mind. Perhaps the dress is cursed.

Pepper sighs as she lifts the glass to her lips, closing her eyes at the first sip of her martini. It’s filled to the brim with olives, exactly how she likes it — especially since their late departure had also meant skipping dinner. Tony will insist on stopping at McDonald’s or somewhere equally horrible on the way home, so she might as well load up now before she is forced to choke down a wilted fast food salad. Speaking of Tony… Pepper’s eyes narrow as she surveys the ballroom, searching for her husband. She had left him — _where_ had she left him? Over by the piano, surely that’s him there, she can tell by the set of the man’s shoulders, the way he tips his head back when he laughs. But that can’t be right, Tony’s hair hasn’t been that dark in years.

Her glass clinks against the countertop as she sets it down before making her way over to the piano, feeling as though her feet are gliding several inches above the ground. There’s a woman standing in front of this pseudo-Tony, she’s wearing a stunning black dress that clings to every curve, and her dark brown hair cascades to her shoulders in easy waves, threaded with strands of silver that glint in the soft, ambient lighting of the ballroom. Her hand rests against the man’s upper arm, rubbing it through the fabric of his tuxedo jacket, Pepper feels her heart constrict, pulsing with a venomous jealousy she hasn’t felt in years. Ever since she and Tony entered into a proper relationship, years ago, Pepper had stopped worrying about the way people looked at him — men, women, Tony didn’t discriminate, and his sexual history was rather intimidating. But he would look into Pepper’s eyes, his lips curving into a dreamy smile, and she would feel like the only person in the room. To him, she was.

“Pep!” It is Tony, calling her name, looking at her with a big smile on his face. She looks at him and Pepper can’t breathe. His hair is not the only thing that has changed, there’s hardly a wrinkle on his face — the ones that crinkle around his eyes when he smiles at her are nowhere near as deep as they had been this morning when she had woken up in bed beside him. Hadn’t she woken up in bed beside him? In bed in Malibu… in a house that was destroyed in 2013. Pepper stumbles slightly, Tony’s hand reaches out and closes around her arm, holding her upright.

“Are you alright?” He looks at her with a concerned frown, his thumb brushing softly over her flushed skin. “You almost just wiped out.”

“I’m okay, I’m… Tony —.” If she says what she’s thinking, he’ll take her home immediately. Pepper has always been the one with everything under control, if there’s any indication that this is no longer the case, Tony will likely start to panic. This young Tony, who looks at her with the same dreamy smile on his face. He can’t be older than 30, and that would really be pushing it. The hair at his temples is so dark, bereft of the silver she had fallen in love with a few years ago, the silver that she had begged him to allow to stay, to spread through his thick brown hair.

“You must be Pepper.” The voice is soft, possessing a slight Italian accent that hadn’t faded even after decades of living in America. The woman who had been speaking to Tony is Maria Stark, Pepper has seen countless pictures of her, she doesn’t understand why she hadn’t recognized Tony’s mother from across the ballroom. Or why she hadn’t recognized Tony.

“Yes, I am,” Pepper says slowly, watching as a smile lights up the woman’s face, the same smile she’s seen on Tony’s more times than she can count, the smile that she loves, the smile that she dreams about. Looking at Maria Stark now, alive and in front of her, the similarities between her and her son are immeasurable. It goes beyond their brown eyes, even the way Maria reaches up to sweep a strand of hair behind her ear reminds Pepper of Tony, and then there’s her ears themselves, with the same gentle curve Pepper has idly traced with her fingertips.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. In fact, Anthony’s been speaking about you for years.”

“Mamma,” Tony complains, his arm wrapping around Pepper’s waist, giving her a gentle squeeze. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“It is my motherly duty,” Maria says seriously. “I haven’t had the opportunity to do so for decades.”

“Yeah, well…” Tony grins, glancing over at Pepper. “Pepper was the one taking care of that for a long time.”

When Tony turns to face her, Pepper swallows back a scream. The right side of his face is a charred ruin, blood trickles out of the cracks carving through his skin. His right eye stares at her, unseeing, just as it had after he had taken his last breath. She can’t hold the scream back any longer, a faint, shrill sound escapes her just as Tony’s face transforms again, unmarred, young and fresh, and impossible.

“Are you alright, Pepper?” Maria raises an eyebrow as Pepper sways slightly, her legs trembling. “You look rather pale.”

“She does,” Tony says with a frown, turning Pepper in his arms. His hand rests against her cheek, Pepper’s eyes shut at the warmth of his palm. She had woken up in his arms this morning. She has not felt his touch in years. No, she had woken up in his arms this morning. **She had.**

“You want some air?” Tony’s voice lowers, his fingers brushing through her hair, teasing the thin strands between his fingers, now threaded with almost as much silver as auburn. “How many martinis did you _drink_?”

“Air would be great,” Pepper chokes out, looking at Maria apologetically. “I’m sorry, I really would love to talk to you.”

Maria reaches out and rests her hand against Pepper’s arm gently. “Don’t worry. We’ll have all the time in the world.”

The music comes to a slow stop, the band behind them shuffling around on stage. Maria’s hand drops away from her arm.

“That’s my cue,” she says with a bright smile, shifting over to the recently abandoned piano bench. “A duet later, Anthony?”

“Only if you don’t comment on my placement,” Tony tells her with a scowl, but there’s a twitch of his lips that gives him away, he’s only teasing. “I’ll be back in a bit, Mamma. Don’t burn the place down.”

It seems that everyone in the ballroom utters a sigh as Maria starts to play, but as Tony guides Pepper towards the French doors leading out onto the balcony, she realizes that none of the guests seem to have faces. Her eyes pass over them, a blur of nothingness, and something in her brushes the thought aside, as it has done since she arrived, only now she’s forcing herself to acknowledge all the things that are wrong.

There’s the dress — it rarely leaves her closet, except for when Morgan drags it out and tries it on, spinning around her parents’ bedroom with her arms held gently over her head. Morgan always blushes and grins when Pepper catches her, rolling her eyes at Pepper’s polite round of applause. Where is Morgan? Pepper had woken up in Tony’s arms this morning, certainly, but the time between waking up and hearing Tony’s whines from the foyer is missing. Hadn’t she woken up in his arms? She must’ve, she can still recall the feel of them around her waist, the coarse brush of the hair of his legs against her smooth skin as he had shifted against her in his sleep.

The night air gusts against her as they step outside, refreshingly cool against her overheated skin. Tony’s arm is still around her waist as he guides them over to the balcony. Funny, the way things work, he had nearly kissed her here, hadn’t he? She feels herself leaning towards him, acting purely on muscle memory, the echoes of that night radiate around them.

“You trying to plant one on me, Potts?” Tony’s voice is a low murmur, his lips press against hers, Pepper flushes when she hears herself moan. Why had she done that? She kisses Tony every single day, tonight is no different — but the solidness of him against her as she lets him draw her close to him still makes her shudder, the heat of his tongue in her mouth makes her grasp tightly at the fabric of his jacket, bunching it between her fingers.

“Tony,” she gasps against his lips, one hand brushing over the nape of his neck, carding through dark brown curls. “What’s…”

He pulls away slightly, his eyes dark as they glance down at her lips every few seconds. His hand presses to her cheek again, his thumb rubbing away a smear of her red lipstick from her skin.

“Been a while since I’ve done that,” Tony says quietly.

“What do you _mean_?” Pepper’s other hand shakes his shoulder insistently. “Tony, _what do you_ _mean_?”

“Ah, Pep,” he shakes his head, looking away from her with a sigh. When he glances at her again, she’s taken aback by the misery in his eyes, her breath is forced out of her lungs as he wraps her into a tight hug. He’s trembling. Tony presses his face against her neck, his goatee scraping against her skin as he takes a shuddering breath. She can feel dampness on her skin, is he _crying_?

“Now who’s leaving who hanging on this balcony?” Tony asks her quietly as he raises his head, his lips brushing softly against the shell of her ear.

* * *

"Tony,” Pepper says into the darkness, shifting onto her side so that she can face her husband. In the dim moonlight spilling in through the windows, she can make out the sleeping face of her daughter.

Morgan is eleven now, Pepper knows she should cherish these nights when she wakes to find her daughter sleeping in her husband’s spot on their bed. Soon, Morgan will be spending less and less time at home, and Pepper will be left alone in an empty house that her husband had built for her with his own hands. He has been dead for six years, and in the mornings she still hurriedly rounds the corner to the kitchen and expects to find him humming to himself as the coffee brews. She still dreams of him.

Pepper inhales shakily, reaching up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. It had felt so _real._ Her fingertips had caught against a tiny cut on his jaw, he must have cut himself shaving. How could her mind have cooked up something so irrelevant as that, a detail that should only mean that what she experienced was real? She closes her eyes and forces herself to recall every detail. There had been no blue glow through the white fabric of his dress shirt. But for the tiny cut on his jaw and the few seconds he had been a corpse rather than himself, Tony had been entirely unmarred. Through the course of their relationship, she had catalogued the scars that had marked his body. Without fail, every couple of months, a new one would appear. She had only ever gotten to be with Tony when he was damaged.

“Mom?” She opens her eyes and finds Morgan staring at her, her daughter’s brown eyes dark with concern. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Pepper says, grimacing as her voice cracks. “No, I’m fine, honey.”

“I guess your cheeks are just sweating, huh?” Morgan rolls her eyes and then shifts closer to Pepper on the bed, her skinny arms wrapping tightly around Pepper. Morgan is all bony angles these days, and she only keeps growing, but she hugs Pepper with such anxious love that Pepper feels herself relax.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Morgan’s voice is muffled, but smaller, and in that moment it is almost like Pepper is holding a four year old Morgan Stark — except her husband is not wedged on the other side of their daughter, he is not looking at her with concern, or wrapping the two of them up in his arms. He is not here to make everything better, as he had promised Morgan he always would when she was born.

“No,” Pepper says, strands of Morgan’s brown hair billowing as her breath passes over it. “No… It was a _good_ dream.”

Morgan hums, lifting her head so that she can press a kiss to Pepper’s damp cheek.

“You’re weird, Mom.”

Pepper laughs quietly. “I know. Go back to sleep, honey.”

Morgan settles back down on the bed and lets out only the faintest noise of complaint as Pepper holds her close. She should cherish these moments too, the ease with which she’s able to hold her daughter, able to comfort her, and by extension, be comforted. Pepper’s fingers trail over the curve of Morgan’s ear as she sleeps, watching Morgan’s lips quirk into a frown as Pepper traces over the familiar shape.

Pepper lets her hand fall away, her eyes closing softly. She breathes in, always hoping to smell Tony’s cologne, though the smell had faded shortly after his death, and she had never allowed herself to spray it without him there.

Just as she’s drifting back to sleep, she can smell him. She can feel his lips against her skin, his hands curling against the small of her back, holding her to him.

“Take your time,” he had murmured.

**Author's Note:**

> i went to sleep last night with this idea in my mind and had to write it. welcome to true suffering hours!


End file.
